. . . it's complicated . . .

Sangria Sunsets

Her spine was a pink lobster tail on the sand
Curls and whorls under a fat Majorcan moon
He traced her vertebrae one by one
Moved his finger in S-shaped waves
She laughed and stretched, the tide came in
Touched her toes, the soles of her feet
Her soul that needed touching, stroking
That made her giggle too, like his jokes
She’d heard them all before but she didn’t care
Not when the Mediterranean Sea plied her thighs
Or when salt encrusted her belly like a suckling pig
With a ring through its snout, her flesh
Not when Lover Boy’s hands played with her nipples

Oh gosh no, oh god no, oh fuck don’t stop no
And gosh no, they hadn’t

Not since meeting in the Pink Coconut bar and
Not making it back to her holiday apartment
Round the back against the bins
Her sunburned shoulders cooled by the night
And Lover Boy’s Spanish kisses like Sangria sunsets
On her English tower block London skin
They’d made it to the beach with a bottle of something
Strong and intoxicating that made her beats per minute heart
Pump, thump, disco dance and pelvis thrust
She never wanted this moment to end
She only ever wanted pure escape
If only ever for 7 days with a bunch of girlfriends
Wherever they were, she didn’t much care